One Life for Another
by Andarte
Summary: In the midst of war and having barely survived Malfoy Manor, Hermione finds an entirely new way of escape and healing - in the form of time travel and Sir Galahad du Lac. AU/AR, M/F, WIP.
1. Chapter 1: Escape

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.**

_Author's Note: __Since finishing my last fic I've been throwing around ideas for more, and though I've started on several none had really caught my interest until tonight. I have been inspired by the Arthurian Legends (blame it on reading historical fiction too often and watching a special on Viking culture on tv, among other things) and I have the basic outline completely worked out for it. I'll probably be looking at updating about once a week, though may do so more often (or slightly less) depending on my moods._

_I decided it was high time I wrote one where Draco got the girl (Hermione specifically, that is), though how that works will be mostly a mystery in the earlier chapters. I'm really rather interested in everyone's theories as this story comes along, and all thoughts/comments/etc. are welcome!_

_~ andarte_

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Hermione dragged herself under the brush, casting a quick disillusionment charm and holding her breath in worry. The gashes in her side were bleeding profusely, and her body still twitched from the hours of _Crucio_ she had endured at the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Dull pain radiated from her right ankle, with sharper pain shooting through her leg at random intervals. She was pretty sure it was broken, but that must be dealt with whenever she managed at least temporary safety.

Voices could be heard in the woods around her, and soon enough several figures in Death Eater robes could be seen from her hiding spot. They walked smoothly through the forest, speaking in hushed tones between each other. They saw nothing of her though, and did not seem to expect she would be hiding so close to the Manor she had just escaped from. Granted, Hermione knew the most logical thing would have been to run as far as she was able before hiding, but she was recognized as the Gryffindor know-it-all and she hoped that she would be about to use that reputation to her benefit. So far, it seemed to be working.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hermione took out the Time Turner she had hidden under her robes. She had seen it in Malfoy Manor while Bellatrix was torturing her. Lucius Malfoy had held it carefully, examining it, and then placed in gently back into a small wooden box. When she had taken her chance at escape, Hermione had grabbed the Time Turner as well. After all, it was a rare magical object, and one she had experience in using.

Studying it for a moment and taking a deep breath, Hermione began to carefully adjust it and turn the wheel. This was a more complicated version than she had used in her Third year, but she had studied so much on them in preparation that she found it easy to use. This one was meant for travelling further back in time, and just then Hermione believed that was exactly what she needed. This place was sparsely populated now; if she went back several centuries then it should be wilderness and a relatively safe place to rest and recover. Travelling forward in time was trickier, and not everyone knew it to be a possibility, but Hermione was confident in her knowledge. Carefully counting the turns, Hermione released it and allowed herself to be pulled through time.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When the world finally stopped spinning, Hermione glanced around to find herself in a similar looking forest, the sun just beginning to rise on the distant horizon. Birds were chirping and the entire setting was one of peacefulness to her. Sitting up and carefully adjusting her leg, Hermione stuck her wand in her pocket and grabbed a decent sized twig to bite down on. Now was the time to heal her broken leg, she knew, and Hermione was fairly certain the bones would need to be set first.

She gripped her ankle firmly as all the books she had read had mentioned. Taking a deep breath, she quickly applied the needed pressure. The bones snapped into place after a bit of work, but the pain involved caused her to drop the twig and cry out loud in pain. It was as bad as the _Crucio_, and being self inflicted -- for however good a reason -- only made it that much more difficult.

When finally set, Hermione took her wand back out and began the healing spells on her ankle. Time would heal the rest, but the spells enabled her to at least walk if she must. Just then, though, she didn't feel all that inclined to move.

A sudden movement to her left, not sounding anything like a forest creature, caught her off guard. Whirling to the side, she held her wand out before her and prepared to defend herself. Through the brush rode a male figure on a tall, dappled horse. He had a sword in hand, his garb indicating himself to be a man of some importance. When he saw her, a woman collapsed on the ground and no enemy in sight, he dismounted and walked over to her.

"I mean you no harm, lady," he said softly, his voice youthful but with a weary edge. "I heard your scream. I feared that something or someone might be hurting you."

Hermione lowered her wand, though kept it securely in hand. "That may well be. May I ask who you are?"

"Aye, of course," the man said, removing his head covering and kneeling beside her. "I am called Sir Galahad du Lac, but call me Galahad if you will. And you? What is your name, and how did you come to hurt yourself?"

"Galahad..." she said softly, liking how the name sounded coming from him. Could it be? Thinking quickly, she realized the number of times she had turned the Time Turner fit. "Surely not... King Arthur's knight?"

He smiled gently. "Is that all I am known for?" he asked with a chuckle. "The very one. I do his bidding at times, but for now I am here to learn from the woman who raised my father. She is a wise woman, and she says that it is time I learned some wisdom."

Hermione could barely contain her emotions. It was a shock, and she was still decided whether or not it was a pleasant one. She tried to remember everything she had read of Arthur and his Knights as a child. _Let's see... Galahad was the son of Lancelot and Elaine... Lancelot was of French birth, but he was taken as a child and raised by..._ "The Lady of the Lake," she said, unaware of her words being out loud until after they had been spoken and the look of surprise crossed his face.

"You seem to know rather a lot about me," he said, "and still you have not answered my questions."

"I'm not sure you will believe me," answered Hermione, "but I hope you will. My name is Hermione. I have... magical abilities. I used my magic to bring me here, though I am from a time far in the future where you and the rest of Arthur's knights are known to us. I was injured in battle, and for some strange reason my first thought of escape was to bring myself back in time while I recovered."

Galahad laughed. "Most would doubt your words, but I do not. How could I, when I go to learn from the Dame du Lac herself? I am sure she would wish you to come with me to see her, as this is just the sort of thing she revels in and her abilities with healing can help you."


	2. Chapter 2: Galahad

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.**

_A/N: Okay, so I'm still not expecting I'll be able to update more than 1-2 times a week, but I did manage to get quite a bit knocked out last night/this morning -- so here is another chapter to get things off to a better start. ;)_

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What could she do but trust him? History, especially that generally relegated to the realm of 'myth', was not always reliable. Yet Hermione had a difficult time getting the idea of Galahad the Pure, the knight who always seemed to do what was right, out of her head. The man before her seemed perfect, and that was enough to frighten her for a moment. His hair was dark brown and fell in waves to just below his jaw, making him one of the few men she'd ever thought looked good with long hair. His skin was pale, but had a glow about it that comes from spending a lot of time outdoors. And his grey eyes, they were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. They looked like smoky quartz, bright but with a shadow to them that spoke of something hidden within.

Deciding to trust him implicitly, she reached up to grasp his outstretched hand and allowed him to support her as she stood up for the first time since healing her ankle.

She didn't know much about horses, having only ridden for brief moments as a young girl, and that was assuming that being led around by someone else while sitting on the back of a very docile horse counted as riding. Somehow she didn't think it counted, but Galahad's horse, though quite likely trained for battle, seemed thoroughly at ease having a young woman lifted on top of him. Galahad mounted behind her and set an easy pace through the forest as she reacquainted herself to the strange sensation of horseback riding.

It was comfortable riding in front of him, leaning back against his solid chest and having his arms on either side balancing her. The rode mostly in peaceful silence, both seeming willing to just enjoy the moment, but they did speak at random intervals.

"How far have you come from the future?" he asked, causing her to shiver as she felt his warm breath against her shoulder.

"Nearly fifteen centuries," Hermione answered, voice low so that it would not carry, a part of her seeming particularly adverse to ruining the peacefulness of the moment. "Back home, the stories of you, of King Arthur, and all the rest are only that. Stories. Most consider them myth, just good for entertainment but not based in truth. Because of my awareness of magic I have always figured there was more truth than they were given credit for, but even so I highly doubt that anything I have read it accurate beyond names. The stories can't even agree on those most of the time."

Galahad laughed softly. "It seems to have my name right, and you recognized it when I spoke of the Dame, though you seem to call her by the simpler version of her title."

"Yes, but how much of it is wrong?" asked Hermione, voicing her thoughts before she had really processed them. Something about Galahad relaxed her to the point where she didn't think before she spoke in the slightest. "I can't go around asking 'oh, has this happened yet?' but neither am I comfortable being so unaware. I'm not saying that I regret coming back in time, I still need to heal and it is an experience few of my time could ever hope for."

"I may be of some assistance there, my lady," he said in mock seriousness, and began to tell her of his childhood. He had been raised by Elaine of Corbenic, his mother, until she died when he was six. From there he was raised primarily by nuns, who taught him of Christ's teachings and engrained the concepts of nobility and purity in him. "Don't get me wrong," he explained, "I am my father's son. "I believe in the gods and goddesses of this land, but follow the Christ as the most powerful of all. My grandmother understands this, and has never judged me for it, but I cannot say the same for others."

They spoke further on their childhoods, Hermione being as vague as she felt necessary to avoid altering the future in any way, and somewhat of religion, before settling on magic for a time. "I can do magic too, you know," Galahad told her. "I was trained to control it as a young boy and have not used it since, but the ability is there. Christians do not take well to it, but that is part of the teaching I am to receive from the Dame."

After awhile they returned to their silence and didn't say much more for the rest of the afternoon. That night Galahad announced that they were still nearly a full day's ride from the lake and would have to make camp for the night. With the help of Hermione and her magic, they had camp set up in no time. Galahad unrolled a blanket he had with him and left it with her, saying that his cloak would suffice to keep him warm for the night. Hermione considered transfiguring something into another blanket, but she didn't want him to think or ungrateful or feel that she doubted he could take care of her. It was obvious that the young knight put a great deal of importance in doing what he could for anyone and everyone in need of aid.

They ate in silence, a simple stew that Galahad was experienced in making quickly, and then laid down on opposite sides of the fire. Sleep refused to come for her, though, and soon she was rising and walking around to where he lay wide awake. "Would you might if I lay by you?" she asked hesitantly. "I just don't feel comfortable, and I think another person closer to me would help me sleep."

He stared at the ground uncomfortably for a moment, and Hermione cursed herself mentally for not thinking more carefully of the period's customs before opening her mouth, but finally he nodded consent and helped her lay the blanket under them. Galahad covered them both in his cloak and soon drifted off to sleep.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The next morning as they awoke at very nearly the same moment they found that their positions had changed in the night. There was no longer a full foot of space between them. Hermione had turned to face him in her sleep and he had wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She had buried her face in his shoulder, and he woke to find his own head resting against the top of hers.

Once more she felt guilty for not having considered custom, and Galahad found himself quickly disturbed that his body was reacting so strongly to one he considered a virtuous woman. Not that whores held any appeal for him, but his body's reaction was not seemly. They quickly broke apart with mumbled apologies, going about their morning in an attempt to ignore what had occurred. Despite that, Hermione couldn't quite hide the smile that fought to show itself. Galahad's presence was like taking a Draught of Peace -- she'd never met anyone like him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That day Hermione found riding to be somewhat easier for her, though her ankle still ached and Galahad was being far quieter on this ride than the last. Unable to deal with the silence this morning, she began to tell him stories of growing up at Hogwarts. Nothing about Voldemort or anything, just all the little daily things that had made school interesting. He said little in return, but it didn't bother her. The look in his eyes said he was listening intently, filing away every little detail in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3: Dame du Lac

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

_A/N: Alrighty... a couple notes before we get started on this chapter, some related to feedback I've gotten and some just things that occurred to me._

_I'm not wanting to reveal too much of the plot, but don't worry if you see the Galahad/Hermione interaction and start wondering how exactly its a Draco/Hermione fic. I think I can safely guarantee that whichever pairing you hope for, you won't be disappointed by the outcome (and please god don't let that be giving it away. lol)._

_I've told myself so many times that when I write chapters I'm going to write them longer rather than breaking them up... and it just doesn't seem to work out well. Either I get writer's block or the flow is just weird, so hopefully the current chapter lengths won't be an issue. :)_

_At the moment I'm looking at making Sunday my "update day" every week, so you should be able to look for a new chapter on at least that day every week. And since I just got home from work and its technically early Sunday morning, here we go... ;)_

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Around midday the forest opened up to reveal a small, glistening lake. It was larger than a pond, but not so big as the lake at Hogwarts. The water was clear and blue, the sun reflecting off of it so brilliantly that you could not stare for long at a time. Galahad guided his horse around the lake until they came to a small, shallow pool of water at the lake's edge.

"Come, Hermione," he said, helping her down and then bidding his horse to wait for them. "You will see something none but family has seen before."

He led her closer to the pool and stepped into it. She looked at him strangely for a moment, then saw how the water had altered. It no longer looked to have a muddy floor to the pool. Now it was a set of stairs that went down out of sight. She followed him, trusting him once more, and found that the water did not even feel wet. It was magic, done to conceal the way to the home of a powerful witch, known in this time as the Dame du Lac.

There were only about twenty steps before they came to a door where a woman was waiting for them, a smile on her face. Galahad went to her immediately, embracing her and addressing her as "grandmother." To Hermione, the woman didn't look like any grandmother she'd ever seen, but neither did the woman look any age in particular. She was timeless, with flowing blonde hair and brilliant green eyes.

"Welcome, Hermione," the Dame said to her after Galahad had released her. "Come, we will care for your ankle before anything else is done."

"How..." started Hermione. "How do you know me?"

The Dame smiled and her eyes lit up in amusement. "My domain is this lake and the forest that surrounds it. I know of everything that occurs in my domain. Come now, my child."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As the Dame worked about her home, taking down herbs and other supplies to use on Hermione's ankle, she spoke of what she had seen. Galahad was not present for the discussion, having been sent out to better secure his horse before a coming storm arrived. "You are a warrior in your own time," said the Dame, "like few women in this time are able to be. I heard the stories you told Galahad, and it excites me to think that magic not only survives so long, but flourishes. I am not foolish or inexperienced as the knight you told them to, I know that with time all things become corrupted. So tell me what it is that you withheld from him, and let me worry over repercussions."

If there is a way to justify denying the Lady of the Lake, Hermione did not know it, and so began to tell the Dame of just what she had been escaping from. As she told of Voldemort, the Dame's expression became darker and darker, until Hermione heard the water above them tossing angrily in matching with its mistress' mood.

"It is not wrong to use Dark magic," the Dame said finally, "but only if you are well versed in it and understand the consequences. It doesn't have to corrupt, and only does so when the person is corrupt to begin with. Dark magic... ah, but this is lore that will have died with the last Lady of the Lake by your time. Still, I will entrust it with you if you will give me your oath to protect it well."

Hermione nodded, and felt magic swirl about her as she spoke a wizarding oath. "I swear to protect what lore you share with me, using it only for right purposes and sharing it in turn with only those who will respect it."

"Very well, then," said the Dame. "Dark and Light magic are tied to the world, but in different ways. Light magic is renewable, it is like the air and moves to accommodate whatever we do in its space. Using it matters little, and the repercussions are few. Dark magic, though, is tied strongly with the earth. It is an ancient power with a mind of its own. You can use it well, but to use it too often causes an upset in the equilibrium between light and dark. Without that balance, magic itself becomes unreliable and could be lost if things go bad enough. That is why Dark wizards must be dealt with quickly. They jeopardize all."

It made sense to Hermione, and put the war against Voldemort in a new light. "But how can you restore the balance?"

The Dame frowned. "Two ways, one infinitely better than the other. The first is time, but that requires a long wait before balance can be achieved and any use of Dark magic sets back the recovery. The second stands before you. The Lady of the Lake is trusted with the task, and it is she that has abilities to balance it. She controls the flow of magic in her realm and the surrounding areas. I can't block someone entirely from using Dark spells, but I can severely limit the power of them.

"So why isn't there a Lady of the Lake in my time?" asked Hermione.

"Many things happen to upset the proper course of things," answered the Dame slowly. "Each Lady teaches only one to replace her, and in so doing entrusts a portion of her power in the one she has chosen. Once done, she cannot train another. If that one fails in any way, then all is over. That is just how it is. The one that it is for me to train has only recently surfaced, and because of their identity I am not entirely pleased with the situation. Before you leave this place, you will understand why the Ladys ceased to exist. Now leave the subject be, Galahad is returning."

They went back to caring for her leg, and Hermione watched carefully as the Dame took herbs of unknown properties in her time and used them in healing. They removed the pain, and her ankle returned to its proper size. The Dame also gave her a version of a replenishing potion, saying her body and her magic were both exhausted from what had happened. Hermione wasn't sure how, but she had a feeling the Dame knew she had recently been tortured, something she'd managed to hide from Galahad.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The three ate a hearty dinner that the Dame prepared for them, and as she worked she taught Hermione of what herbs should be put in food to improve taste and improve a person's magic. It seemed that many things had been lost through time. They curled up next to her fire, a strange thing in Hermione's mind to have in an underwater home, and soon Galahad had fallen off to sleep. The women stayed up for a long while, exchanging stories and speaking of what must be.

"You should call me Nimue," said the Dame finally. "That was my name before I accepted my role as the Dame."  
Hermione studied her for a minute and smiled. "That name is known to us as well, though only rarely is it connected to the Lady of the Lake."

"It is a shame you must return to your own time," said Nimue softly after another minute had passed. "You would have made a good lady of the lake after me. But in your time there will be no lady, and so I will train you to take up the role then, if you are willing."

"I thought..." began Hermione, then silenced herself.

"Oh I am pleased with the candidate I have been given, and that candidate is you," said Nimue in explanation of their earlier conversation. "I just wish the lake didn't have to go so long without a Lady. I'm sure that you will manage to right things, once you return. Just learn well, and ensure the new line of guardians lasts for many years to come."


	4. Chapter 4: Training

When Hermione woke the next morning, it was to find the warms arms of a certain knight wrapped around her once more. Laying still, but opening her eyes, she saw the amused face of Nimue looking over at them while she prepared breakfast.

"That boy has designated himself to protect you, even if he doesn't realize it yet," said Nimue softly.

"He has been kind to me," answered Hermione softly, "but how did he end up sleeping by me?"

Nimue chuckled, still quiet so that Galahad would not wake. "He has been known to walk in his sleep. Not often, and not like some people do, but if his mind is on someone or something else, he will seek it in his sleep. I distinctly remember a time when he was a boy that his mother took away a toy he favored while he slept, and the next morning he was found curled up on the floor next to where she had placed it."

"Great, so I'm his toy now..." mumbled Hermione, laughing slightly at the thought.

"Telling stories about me?" asked a still half asleep Galahad, his voice heavy from sleeping and his face still buried in Hermione's hair. He seemed to have processed everything a moment later, because he sat up and removed his arms from her body.

His hair was a mess from sleep, sticking out every which way, and his eyes seemed only half open. His features were relaxed, causing him to look more his age where usually he seemed far older than his nineteen years. The linen shirt he wore when sleeping was thin, and showed how well formed his body was from years of training for battle. If she had to wake next to a sleeping man, he was certainly one that Hermione would prefer.

She pretended to ignore him and turned back to Nimue. "So what exactly does my training involve anyway?"

Nimue sighed. "I had hoped to at least eat before we got on this subject," she said, "but you don't seem to be the patient type. By the gods, will you at least allow us to eat _while_ we discuss it?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The easy manner that Nimue had about her was comforting, and Hermione had to laugh, but when it got down to the actual training she was a harsh mistress. Professor McGonagall would have been proud to witness it.

As it turned out, training was strenuous but boring. It wasn't like Hermione wasn't learning anything, and everyone always knew how much she enjoyed learning, but it was at such a desperately slow pace that she thought she would go insane.

On the first day, Hermione was taught five basic herbs, how to preserve them, and their usual properties. According to Nimue, most women in training would study not more than three a day because it was so important that every detail be learned to perfection, but Hermione had a ready mind and absorbed everything quickly.

By the end of the day Hermione's hands ached terribly from crushing the herbs to prepare tinctures. Nimue, or more like the Dame du Lac when it teaching mode, was very precise in her directions. Even Snape had never been so scrupulous in Potions, but when they were done Nimue had her prepare tinctures from each of her attempts, and Hermione had to admit that one did create a more powerful affect than any of the others. Though to her they had seemed the same, the subtle differences Nimue pointed out to her proved important, and from that point on Hermione took more care and had more respect for Nimue's instruction. To read of the power of the Lady of the Lake was one thing to Hermione, to see her wisdom in practice was another altogether.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Galahad's training was, though to Hermione it seemed impossible, even more boring and painstakingly slow. Though he'd been taught to control his ability as a young boy, his entire first day was spent altering the color of a tunic. Hermione could help but think of how, at Hogwarts, you would be told to make it blue and any decently blue shade would be acceptable, but even in this Nimue was precise. "A little more of a purple hue to it," she would say, or, "just a bit darker." Always she would look at it and immediately instruct him on a new shade.

"It isn't enough," she explained, "to cast a spell that is 'close enough.' It must be done exact. When you are forced to act quickly your skill will be thrown off, and so you must have your skill as precisely trained as can be to begin with. We all make mistakes from time to time, but that is no excuse to give up on seeking perfection."

His hands didn't ache at the end of the day, but his mood was foul and the women were well aware of it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Galahad's mood was not helped by his strange connection to the girl, Hermione. He didn't know what it was, or why it was, only that that question burned at him. He had felt it on their journey to the lake, and now that they were here he found himself walking to her side at random times, unaware of his purpose until he was already next to her. There was a comfort in her presence. Not that she made him feel safe, as he was quite confident in his ability to protect himself, but more that he needed to know that he would be close at hand if she happened to need his protection.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That night Hermione helped Nimue prepare dinner, putting her new knowledge of herb lore to work. She had never realized that terms such as a 'pinch' were actually precise measurements, and it was made more difficult by the fact that she was pretty sure Galahad was watching every second of it.

He was still bitter about his training, but Nimue didn't seem overly concerned. "He will get over it," she had said privately to Hermione. "Every man longs to prove that they are the biggest and best of all. They do not take well to those things that are humbling. He's a good boy though, and he will come around to my way of thinking soon."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After dinner they all sat near one another, Nimue telling stories of magical Britain and the other two listening intently. Hermione went instinctively to sit by Galahad, who in turn put his arm around her, though if they were asked neither would be able to really explain why. It was just comfortable, and Nimue said nothing of it. In fact, she didn't seem to notice, for all the attention she gave it.

"Magic has been known and used in this land for many centuries," said Nimue, "since far before many other places learned of it. Avalon has been a refuge, the Stone Henge has been a place of power, and this lake a place of serenity and balance. All three are connected through magic, and if the Lady fails to ensure that their magic is balanced, then the other two will fall. Oh, they will still exist, but their ties to magic will weaken and become unusable.

"Always there has been a Lady, since the magic of this place was first discovered. And always there has been a Protector, someone who cannot hold her power but supports her nonetheless. Some are lovers, others friends, and at times they are family. My brother was mine, and upon his death Lancelot took up the role. The Protector is not chosen by the Lady, nor do they choose it for themselves. It's something chosen for them, and each Lady and her Protector either choose to accept their responsibilities or don't. The Protectors do not have to stay so close to the lake, only be available to heed the Lady's call if need be. The Lady _is_ bound to stay close, and though we can leave for a time, the majority of our lives must be spent here.

"You must understand, Hermione, just how great the task you are training for. Once you accept the role, there is no going back. You can leave the lake, but you will never stop feeling its pull or that of your Protector. It is for life."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After that night Hermione worked at her training even harder, committing every detail to memory. To think that with each bit of lore she learned that she was increasing her ability to help Harry and protect magic was enough to keep her focused on the task at hand. All too soon, her ankle was fully healed, her body refreshed, and Nimue pronounced her ready to return.

"There is only so much I can teach you now," said Nimue, "but those basic things that are of greatest importance you have already mastered. When you return, and find yourself ready to take up the role of Lady, come back to this place. I will be the last Lady before you, and here in my home I will leave for you everything I have to aid you. I will write down the lore which I would teach if we had more time, and you will have time enough to study it later. The Time Turner, as you call it, wears on a person's soul, and I would not have you stay longer because of it."


	5. Chapter 5: Goodbye

_A/N: Thank you so much for everyone's encouragement! I'm really interested in hearing how everyone's theories about the plot have changed with the last couple chapters. So far there are some really good guesses, but the next couple chapters should begin to explain things. To those who like Galahad but also like Dramione -- don't worry, it all works out in the end. I'm just not telling how quite yet. ;)_

_Enjoy!_

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Hermione and Galahad sat quietly by the lake for a long time after Nimue walked away. The time Hermione had been here was at an end, and neither were really ready for it to be over. Neither spoke of that, though, expecting somehow that they were the only one so bothered by it.

Galahad considered suggesting that he go with her, to help her, but knew that it was another world entirely that was not meant for him. Hermione thought about asking him to come, but knew that she could not ask such a sacrifice from him. If their silence nearly cost them everything, neither realized it.

Finally, Hermione broke the silence. "I... uh... I will miss you, Galahad. I wish we had more time to get to know each other."

Galahad looked over at her and couldn't resist leaning over to kiss her. The knight known as Galahad the Pure was no virgin, but neither was he as experienced as many other knights. Still, a simple kiss had never stirred so much emotion within him, and that fact scared him. He backed off abruptly, but the look of hurt that began to show in her eyes brought him back again.

His hands on her hips pulled her closer to him, and as they kissed she felt his growing arousal. Hermione wrapped her hands in his hair and kissed him back enthusiastically. He was like a drug, one that became addicting so quickly you can't wrap your head around it, but the addiction is still real and there is no denying your need.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, pulling away just enough to break contact. "I didn't mean... I didn't want to offend you."

Hermione's brows knit for a moment at his words, somewhat surprised by the sudden rejection. His rigid stance and formal manner was enough for her to put two and two together finally, and she realized that it was cultural differences rearing their ugly head once more. "I'm about to go back to my time," she explained slowly, "and in that time I would not be criticized for spending my last night with you. It's not something necessarily spoken of in public, but a man and a woman can be with each other without either of their reputations being ruined."

Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. There were still plenty of instances in her day where a woman would be labeled a whore, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. Deciding to push her luck, Hermione moved closer and straddled his lap, allowing herself to grind into his erection. She couldn't help it. He had this affect on her, and she'd hate to spend the rest of her life wishing she'd taken advantage of it. She was fairly certain she'd never find anyone like him once she got back, and the thought was too damn depressing.

The hesitation he felt quickly faded when he felt her body pressed against him, and he didn't really want to object to it. Neither was interested in taking their time, and they made quick work of each other's clothes, removing only what was necessary for access to the other. Despite going to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum and an on again, off again attempt at a relationship with Ron, Hermione had spent her life focused on things she considered far more important than sex. And now, when spending a few moments as physically close as possible to someone she was about to lose, fervor made up for what she lacked in experience.

She found that Galahad was a wise choice for her first, as upon realizing her lack of experience he was even more careful and gentle with her. Pain was inevitable, but he got it over with as quickly as possible, caressing her body and whispering soothing words as he penetrated her body for the first time. Soon the pain was forgotten, and Hermione was eager for him to go faster and harder, as if both thought a rougher pace might allow themselves to be permanently lost in the other.

Galahad took his time with her, for all that they had skipped straight over the preliminaries, but when all was said and done it did not seem to be anywhere near long enough. She would be gone soon. They were logical people, bound to duties they held to valuable to be sacrificed. They would not seek to change fate further than it had already been altered, and both would do as they had to. That was who they were.

The two fell asleep under the stars, grateful for the warm night but unwilling to leave each other's side regardless. Galahad's cloak they drew across them, and when morning came their bodies were still intertwined.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Nimue didn't wake them, but allowed Galahad and Hermione to find her once they had awoken. She had known what was occurring as the Lady of the Lake knows everything that happens in her domain, and she could fault neither of them for it. Things would happen as they must, and she would do only what was required of her to do. She did not believe in meddling where it was not meant for her to do so.

When they did find her, Nimue led them to a clearing not far from the lake. "I believe," said Nimue, "that this is the best spot from which you should return. So now it is time for goodbye. I trust you have all of your things with you?"

Hermione wasn't entirely sure why Nimue had chosen this place, but she was fairly certain the Lady had her reasons and didn't have any intention of explaining them. "I believe so. Must I go already?"

"It is time, Hermione," said Nimue, "there is no point in delaying it. You have already lost nine days in your fight, and as you have explained that device to me you will not be able to regain them. Just remember what I have taught you, and you will do well. Remember the teachings, and remember the lake. My home will be preserved for you, and it will stay hidden from anyone else. Stay safe, my child, and all will happen as it should."

A nod was all that Hermione could manage in response. Galahad's arms were wrapped tightly around her, though they both knew he'd have to let go soon. She turned to face him and kissed him gently goodbye. When they finally broke away from each other, Galahad brought out a knife and took several strands of her hair in his hand. Hermione forced the tears not to fall as she let him cut off those strands and tuck them safely away.

She wished she could have something of his to bring with her, but was afraid it would only make it that much harder to accept that she had to return alone. She kissed him gently one more time and backed away, taking out the Time Turner from where she'd kept it in her clothes.

"Goodbye," she said softly and began setting the Turner and counting the turns. It had multiple wheels to turn: one for centuries, another for decades, and a final one for years. She counted carefully, making sure to go forward the exact amount that she had gone back. After the final turn she looked one last time at Galahad and Nimue, then released the Time Turner and watched the years begin to spin by before her.

The force of it was like a strange Portkey from which there was no gentle landing, and upon returning to the correct time she fell abruptly to the ground.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

She lay there awhile, trying to regain her bearings and not quite sure she was ready to face the world. She felt like a chunk of her heart had been torn out, but somewhere inside of her there was a new piece that hadn't been there before. She could feel the Lake, and knew that since Nimue was long dead that she had been accepted by the Lake as its mistress.

When finally Hermione looked up, she found herself on top of a ridge overlooking Malfoy Manor. It seemed she had spent her entire trip back in time on what was now Malfoy lands. The thought amused her somewhat, and then she realized why. As Lady of the Lake, she controlled this land, no matter how important and powerful the Malfoy's thought themselves.

With this cheering thought in mind she waited until the world had completely stopped spinning and then disapparated.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Nearly fifteen centuries back in time, Galahad was unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. Nimue watched with sorrow as he began to pace in one direction and then abruptly into another. He constantly switched to random directions until finally he found the trunk of a large tree on which to vent his frustration.

Later that night, when Nimue was bandaging his bloody knuckles in spite of Galahad's protests, she again lamented that the dawn only comes after the darkest and coldest part of the night. She wouldn't let her emotions rule her though, the Lady of the Lake would do as she must for the proper outcome. Even if others would never understand her reasons. Even if she herself didn't understand the reasons.


	6. Chapter 6: Desperate Times

It didn't take long for Hermione to get back to the Order's headquarters. When Molly opened the door and found her, Hermione was close to collapse. Physically, she was perfectly fine. A bit tired, but that was to be expected. Emotionally, however, she felt as though a piece of her heart had been broken off and left behind with Galahad.

Granted, her logical side said that it made no sense. She had known him for just over a week, but somehow during that time she had gotten so bloody attached that now she couldn't function properly. It was as if their souls had become entwined by their very presence near one another, and any attempt to live separately resulted in a half life.

Explaining her absence was interesting. She considered lying, but instead went for a watered down version of the truth. "My leg was broken, and the bone in my ankle was close to shattered," she told them. "I was surrounded by Death Eaters in the forest behind Malfoy Manor. I was close enough still that the anti-apparition wards were fully in place. I had managed to steal the Time Turner from the Manor though, and so I decided to use it. I went far enough back in time to find wilderness, staying there until I was healed. I returned today."

There was no need to mention Nimue or Galahad. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Soon enough she would return to the Lake. She could feel it calling out to her, mourning the long time it had gone without a mistress. Now it's mistress had returned only to abandon them once more. Yes, she must return soon, but for now she needed sleep.

As Hermione curled up in her bed at Grimmauld Place, loneliness overcame her. She didn't let the tears fall. She refused to acknowledge how miserable she felt. Still, as she lay there waiting for sleep to take her, she allowed herself to imagine Galahad's arms around her. She wondered if how they had spent their last night together was for the best. Logically, it probably wasn't. But she couldn't bring herself to regret it, and refused to push the memory to the back of her mind either. She knew she would be missing him regardless, and at least this way she had one more memory to keep her company.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Nimue took a deep breath and released it slowly, looking for calm and maybe a scrap of motivation. It was time for preparations to begin, and to start on them would be to accept reality. That in particular was something she dreaded. She was losing everyone. Lancelot was busy at court, her sister was busy as a priestess in Avalon, she had just sent the next Lady of the Lake back to the future, and soon she would lose Galahad.

Damned fate.

She refused to aid Galahad in what she knew he would pursue, but she knew he would find a way regardless and that it was not for her to prevent it. Oh well. Perhaps she could write him a letter as well. For now, there was much left to be said to Hermione. With a sigh she picked up her quill and finally began to write.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Galahad felt as though he couldn't breathe, and had felt that way since the moment she returned to her own time. The morning after her departure, he went to Nimue with his questions. "What has happened to me?"

Nimue wore a sad smile that Galahad couldn't help but dislike. She knew exactly what had happened. "Things must occur a certain way, Galahad, and with any prior knowledge the two of you would have sought to change matters. Besides, it is not as if I hid it from you, it's just that I never said it outright and the two of you, both intelligent people, never put it together on your own."

"Well now she is gone," said Galahad bitterly, "so what is it you would not say before?"

"Hermione had no choice but to return to her own time, to her old friends," said Nimue. "They are fighting a Dark Wizard as strong as any I have heard of, and a Lady of the Lake is needed to maintain balance. Without one, I see her friends failing at their tasks."

Galahad found himself clenching his fists at the thought of Hermione having to face that without him, and finally he recognized his desire to protect her for what it was. "You let her go without me, knowing she needs me."

"You could not go with her to the future," said Nimue, "it alters time too much. If fate and the goddess are kind, which I believe them to be, then you, in a future life, will find yourself by her side and will be the Protector she needs. But you, as Galahad, cannot be that person."

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

If Nimue, the Dame du Lac, was content to leave matters up entirely to fate, Galahad was not. She had taught him much, but much also had she withheld that she believed him not to need. He'd had other teachers though, and so he knew the last part of the truth, the part that Nimue was keeping from him.

Always Nimue and Merlin had been at odds, and so Galahad found it fitting that his answer would have come from Merlin. Years before, when he was just beginning to train as a Knight and he was surrounded by King Arthur's court, Merlin had taken him as a student. Not to train as a wizard, but just to instill such knowledge as Merlin saw fit to share, that at least one Knight of the Round Table would understand their world beyond the tip of his sword. Galahad had loved the training, having itched for more magical learning ever since being taught to control his magic.

On one such day of training, Galahad learned of the Holy Grail. _Many have heard stories of the Holy Grail_, he remembered Merlin saying, _but there is a higher truth beyond the stories. The Grail was once owned by the Christian's god, Jesus, when he walked this world as a man. He used it in his last rite, which they call the Last Supper, and imbued in it the power to guide his soul in its afterlife. Upon his death, his soul went as his magic instructed it, and he was able to rise again. We are not gods, and so our magic will only do so much, but it is said that the Grail would guide our souls as well. We can choose our futures, but to do so requires blood sacrifice to bind it. Because of its power, the Grail will allow itself to be touched only by those of pure intentions. Some call you Galahad the Pure, so perhaps one day you will be the Grail's keeper._

The keeper he was not, but Galahad was one of three knights with whom Merlin had entrusted the Grail's location. And Merlin had spoken of him as though it was for Galahad to use the Grail. Had it been a careless comment, or had Merlin seen Galahad's future to some extent? He couldn't be sure, but there were many things he would do if it meant feeling whole again. This path, with all the danger that was sure to be hidden and facts that would not be revealed until it was too late, was more than worth it in his eyes.

Galahad left the Lake that day. He left Nimue's territory, never saying a true goodbye for fear that she would see his intention. Riding straight for his goal, Galahad soon came to a small Christian church just outside of Camelot. Every day knights came from far and wide to worship the Christian God within these small walls, yet they were blinded by its simplicity.

Sitting on the alter between candles and a bowl of holy water there was a small chalice. It no longer shined as it had when it was first made, and neither was it of the finest materials, but it was of immeasurable worth. Passed over every day by those who could not see what was in plain sight, the Holy Grail was no such mystery to Galahad. He saw it for what it was. He felt the power it contained. And in the dark and lonely hours of the night, Galahad began his preparations.

It was old magic, and dark, but done with no mal intent in his heart. It was a simple process, but required the greatest sacrifice. Carefully Galahad took out his dagger and the lock of Hermione's hair which he had saved. The hair he placed within the Grail, and the dagger he placed at his heart.

_By love of all holy, by purity of heart,  
I entrust my soul, in this my new start._

A river of warm crimson flowed down over his body, mingling with the Grail and his last tie to Hermione.

It was with a smile on his face that Galahad drew his last breath.

* * *

_A/N: It's the early morning hours here and I haven't really gone to sleep yet. I just finished a few minor adjustments to the chapter and the ending kinda has me all emotional. lol. This is really a major turning point to the story, and I think it might be the clue everyone needed to figure out where the story is going. I hope that is a cause for excitement rather than disappointment. ;)_


	7. Chapter 7: Desperate Measures

Two days after her return, Hermione woke feeling an almost unbearable urge to return to the Lake. It was a sensation almost like paranoia, as if some part of her was so concerned about her duties that she couldn't function unless she went and performed them. She went quickly to dress and left Grimmauld Place without an explanation to anyone. Any unnecessary delay was very nearly agonizing to her.

It wasn't hard to apparate back to the Malfoy property, and she quickly made her way back to the Lake. Finding the entrance to Nimue's home was easier than she had expected. It was as if the land itself was welcoming her, and the Lake was revealing itself to her. As she descended the stairs and came to that familiar door she felt a tug on her heart, then a pain like a knife piercing it, but she shook it off and entered.

The cavern home was every bit as she remembered it, with stasis charms on much of it and everything organized neatly. It was the epitome of home to her mind and she quickly set to exploring every inch of it. On the table by the hearth Hermione found a stack of papers. At the top of it sat two letters, one with her name on it and the other with Galahad's. She found her hands shaking as she picked hers up and opened it, leaning against the table to read.

_My Dear Hermione,_

_There is so much I have yet to teach you, and yet fate has not permitted me to do so in person. I am leaving notes for you of those things we didn't have time for. I trust your bookish nature will make quick work of them and make up for my lack of presence with you. I have left herbs and potions also, though I'm not sure how well the stasis spells will hold over the next fifteen centuries._

_Give your Protector my regards. I wish I could be there to see your daughter be born. Train her well. Between the three of you, I trust all will be set right._

_Nimue_

Hermione had to smile there at the end. Nimue had never been one for long and drawn out explanations, although the stack of notes looked like they would be very thorough. She wondered if the last paragraph was what Nimue hoped for or if she had actually seen the future. Hermione had to admit that the idea of finding a Protector in this life was appealing to her, though she was sure she would always wish it could have been Galahad instead.

With a sigh she picked up the stack of notes and began studying. If she was to be of any use as Lady of the Lake, she needed to hurry her learning along.

_-x-x-x-x-_

Draco Malfoy walked back into his bedroom after having taken a shower, full of ideas for his day. The Dark Lord seemed to be in a good mood because he had finally ceased in giving Draco endless little tasks that left the Malfoy heir tired and covered in blood. It was a relief to have a day to himself, and he wasn't having and problems thinking of possibilities for it.

He made it about halfway across the room when he felt a sharp pain in his chest and fell down onto his knees. The pain was focused on his chest, but the rest of his body ached as well, and a dull throb was beginning to take its place. Unexplainably Draco began to see images, one after another, passing through his mind so quickly that he barely had time to process one scene before he saw another.

_He saw himself as a young boy, playing by the lake with a man dressed as a knight from the stories. He saw a woman who walked as if the very earth itself would move at her request, but she still came to his rescue when the little boy scraped his knee or bumped his head._

_He saw himself as a young man, just done with his training and the feeling of elation upon being knighted by Arthur. He saw the cold winter nights spent by the fire, listening to Merlin's stories._

_He saw himself travelling in the forest and coming upon a girl from another time, and feeling as though he would die for her. He saw himself training under the Lady, and losing the girl._

_He saw the Holy Grail, felt the cold blade in his hand..._

And he knew. As Draco finished reliving the memories, he felt a tug on his heart. The Lady had returned to the Lake. She was so close, but he could not bring himself to go to her. Instead he lay on the floor, his heart processing those things that his mind could not wrap itself around.

He was Draco Malfoy. He was _also_ Galahad du Lac, though only today had he remembered it. Today, the day the girl returned as the Lady. That was the catch, really. Galahad loved the girl more than life itself, and had sacrificed that life in hopes of spending another in which he could be with her. Draco, on the other hand, recognized the girl as the Mudblood Granger, the know-it-all bookworm he had wanted for years. He'd not handled the attraction well, and had turned to cruelty towards her to hide from it. Did it matter that every time he'd called her a 'Mudblood' and smirked at her, a little part of him had mirrored the pain that would be in her eyes?

And all of that childhood cruelty could compare to his actions during this war, when he had stood by while his Aunt Bella tortured Granger her beyond the point many others could bear. When he had chased her into the forest after her escape, wondering if he could really bring himself to kill her if he found her. It wasn't just what he had done to her though, but what he had done to everyone else as well. Galahad du Lac had not been called Galahad the Pure for no reason, and the knight that had only wished to help and protect others cringed terribly at the realization of what horrors he had committed as Draco Malfoy.

As the two lives were processed, and Draco felt himself become as one person with memories that just happened to go back further in time, a feeling of despair set in. He was a Death Eater. He was tied to the Dark Lo... to Voldemort. There was no escape, as his godfather was proof of. Severus Snape had felt deeply the loss of Lily Evans. Would Draco be forced to feel the loss of Hermione Granger as well?

He could feel her nearby, so close to him, but he couldn't go to her. How would he be able to explain? And would she forgive him? Or would she look at him and see only Draco Malfoy, the cruel boy, and nothing of Galahad?

He didn't think he would be able to handle the look in her eyes if she rejected him, and really, he had no right to expect anything else. In the last life he may have been a good man, but in this life he had not been. Maybe one day he would be able to make atonement for his sins, but for now he just needed to survive.

A new pain laced through him as his Dark Mark began to hurt terribly, and Draco fought to control his emotions before going before Voldemort. Whatever he decided to do, he could not let Voldemort see his inner turmoil. Draco would just have to deal with whether or not Hermione would forgive him later.

Pushing Hermione and just how close by she was out of his mind, Draco disapparated.

_-x-x-x-x-_

Back in the Lady of the Lake's home, Hermione had gotten a good deal of the notes read and begun taking a few of her own. She felt a pang of loss suddenly, as if some comforting presence had left her, and could no longer concentrate on her studies. Her mind was full of Galahad, and whether he was okay. Granted, he had died centuries ago, but in her mind he was still the way she had left him. Had he finished his training and done well? Surely he had, but she could not turn to the myths for answers.

Had he ever married? Had any children? Hermione hoped he'd been happy, but couldn't bear the thought of him being with anyone else. She wondered who the father of her daughter would be, and that was the thought that stopped her in her tracks.

She, the know-it-all who always found a solution to everything, had forgotten a contraceptive spell.


	8. Chapter 8: Enemies

_Author's Note: I guess the muses were cooperating or something -- here's an extra chapter for this week. :) Hopefully they will still be cooperating when it comes time to update on Sunday._

* * *

Draco could feel blood trickling down his side, and he knew that soon he would need some form of medical attention. Voldemort's mood had gone sour while he was there, and had chosen to take that frustration out on Draco. He had looked over during the beating to where his father stood, his face cold as stone and showing no signs of sympathy.

It was _that_ sort of behavior from his father that had put him on his current path and made him such an angry, bitter person. His memories of having another life as someone who was loved and nurtured was something to cling to, but in a way it just increased his anger that his own father from this life might care so little.

He had only a little while to prepare before he was supposed to participate in another raid. Once again he had been judged too inexperienced and weak to be told any details. Somehow he was worthy of following and risking his life, but not of knowing how or why.

After a quick shower and a few healing spells, Draco was reluctantly ready to go. On his way out he caught sight of himself in Death Eater robes in the mirror and felt disgusted. He had always hated actually _doing_ anything for Voldemort or going into his presence, and now that his way of thinking was steadily changing... now he wanted nothing to do with the man. There was no choice, though, as far as he could see. All he could do was hope the other side won and he didn't get sent to Azkaban for life.

His father was waiting for him in the hallway, identically dressed, and apparated them both to their destination. Apparently allowing your son to be beaten half to death meant you were worthy of information. Draco cringed at the scene before him. Masks and hoods were on, but he saw at least twenty figures gathered with them.

"Where are we, father?" he asked quietly.

"We have finally learned the location of the Order's headquarters," said Lucius. "We came quickly to try to catch them unaware."

Draco wanted to ask further questions, but at the same time he was very much afraid to get the answers. Order headquarters was where Hermione was. He could feel her presence just as he had felt her presence earlier in the day. It was nearly nightfall now, and as the light began to fade away Draco's worries increased.

He hadn't sacrificed his life once before to be with her just to lose her now. Dark Mark or no Dark Mark, he couldn't go along with this. Not when it was Hermione that might die for it. There had to be something, anything, that he could do to stop it.

"Father," he said, "I'm sorry I have made you disappointed in me by my weakness. Can... will you allow me to be the first in the attack tonight?"

Lucius nodded his approval, not at all concerned putting his son in such danger.

When finally they were given the signal, Draco disillusioned himself in order to get closer, and as they burst through the front door of Grimmauld Place he began his search. Room after room he looked, casting only defensive spells and using the majority of his energy in looking. He was trying not to be rash, not to act so foolishly that he gave everything away before he even had her to safety.

_-x-x-x-x-_

Panic would be the only word to describe Hermione when she realized how major a thing she had forgotten. The chances of getting pregnant through one encounter wasn't overly great, but neither was it something to be dismissed. That, with Nimue's comment...

Hermione grabbed her wand and cast a quick spell, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the tell-tale pink glow on her stomach. "Bloody hell," she mumbled as she sank down into a nearby chair, along with a few choice words about pregnancy.

To be completely truthful, Hermione wasn't sure she hadn't forgotten the contraceptive spell on purpose. At least, on some strange subconscious level. Statistics showed increases in marriage and pregnancy around times of war, so maybe a part of her had wanted to keep some part of Galahad with her.

"Ugh," she said loudly. How was she to explain to her daughter that her father was Galahad, one of King Arthur's knights, who had been dead for fifteen centuries? It really didn't bode well for the girl's emotional well being. Or that of the mother's, if she thought about it. Hermione had never been the sort of girl to resort to tears, but she'd been doing so a lot since her return, and in this situation it seemed incredibly appropriate. Only when she had run out of tears and hidden the signs of it on her face did she return to Grimmauld Place.

When she got there she had only a few minutes of peace before everything turned to chaos. She heard the screams from the entryway and the loud crashing sounds of dueling in the hallways. They didn't come upstairs immediately, and so Hermione found herself facing only one Death Eater at the top of the stairs. It would probably have been most intelligent if she had apparated away to safety, but she was a Gryffindor and determined to stay until she knew there was no more help she could be. She quickly cast spell after spell at the Death Eater, turning it around until she was closest to the stairs and ready to dart down them to go find other members of the Order.

Hermione never heard another attacker come up behind her, though she saw the Death Eater before her seem to relax their guard suspiciously. She started to turn, but all too quickly found herself on the other end of a "Petrificus Totalus" spell, and soon her frozen body was falling to the ground at her attacker's feet.

_-x-x-x-x-_

A quite startled Hermione woke to find herself by the Lake, soft grass laying under her and nothing but the calming sounds of nature which were a harsh contrast with the last thing she remembered. Looking up, she saw a strange figure beside her offering their hand. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up, and as she got closer to their face the light of the moon became enough to identify them.

She took a step back, not quite believing that the person she now recognized as Draco Malfoy would be helping her. His hair was a mess, falling across his face in a way he had never permitted it at Hogwarts, and his forehead was creased in worry, but there was still no mistaking him.

"Imagine my surprise," said Draco in his customary drawl, "when I woke up yesterday only to remember an entire lifetime I hadn't known before. I supposed there was only one thing to be done, and so I am here to do whatever the Lady needs of me."

The word _Lady_ struck Hermione particularly strange, and she wondered how he could possibly know of the role she now held. Then she looked closer, and was amazed by what she saw. Draco looked very much the same as he always had, with hair so blonde it looked nearly silver and an aristocratic air that seemed to scream how superior he was to the rest of the world. There was something she had never noticed before though, and it stood out to her now. His eyes weren't blue, or even a dull grey. They were bright grey, clear like crystal, and very familiar to her. She had looked into those eyes so much in the past couple weeks, and even now that she had returned she'd been unable to get them out of her mind. "Galahad..."

She threw her arms around him, full of mixed emotions that she couldn't quite straighten out at first. Galahad was a good, kind man, who she had fallen for in a very short period of time. She trusted him, and felt she could rely on him no matter what. Draco, on the other hand, was a Death Eater, a boy that had tormented her as a girl and stood by as his family tortured her not all that long ago. To trust _him_ was something that had never occurred to her before.

She released him slowly and just looked at him. He stood before her, Draco in appearance but with the soul of Galahad, and Hermione felt herself at a loss.

Draco reached out, brushing her hair out of her face as Galahad had done many times, and his expression was nowhere near the cold, arrogant one that she had come to expect from a Malfoy. "I'm confused now too," he said, as if he could read her mind. "I have gone from an arrogant prat to someone that is, I suppose, in between. I'm not entirely sure who I am, and that's probably why Nimue would never have chosen that I... well... nevermind what I did. I do know, though, that I gave up everything from my previous life so that I could be here with you and I don't plan on wasting that. That is, if you will have me."


	9. Chapter 9: 'Outstanding' Worthy

Hermione felt completely and utterly overwhelmed. A part of her was still hesitant, worried that Draco would revert back to the cruel little boy she had known at Hogwarts. The other, larger, part of her wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. "Just... hold on a second..." she stammered.

Grabbing her wand from where it had fallen beside her, Hermione sent out her Patronus to let the others in the Order know she was safe. Then, without a word, she grabbed Draco by the hand and descended quickly into the Lady of the Lake's home. He didn't stray far from her side while she lit the fireplace, and as soon as she was done he pulled her onto his lap.

She wanted a clear head with which to discuss matters, but having his arms around her felt too good to argue. "Galahad," she began, then hurriedly corrected herself. "Draco... what do you want from me?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. He was quite obviously put on guard by her words.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before explaining. "I mean, well, you aren't just Galahad anymore. You are a pureblood wizard... a Malfoy. You are expected by your family to marry another pureblood and have an heir and--"

Draco placed a hand firmly under her chin and brought her face up to look him in the eye. "I just got you back, Hermione. I don't have everything figured out yet, but there are a few things I know. One of them is that family expectations aren't going to get in our way. I won't let them."

She didn't say anything, just walked over to the table where Galahad's letter from Nimue still sat. It was now obvious to her that Nimue had known exactly what would happen, and had left the letter with that in mind.

_Galahad,_

_I understand, and I love you. Keep yourself safe, and take care of Hermione and your daughter._

_Nimue_

The letter was short and to the point. Still, it seemed to Hermione like an eternity of silence as Draco read--and then stared at--the letter. His face was expressionless, giving her the impression that he was overwhelmed now. Otherwise she doubted he'd be hiding his reactions.

"A daughter," he said finally. "Do you think it's possible? The Malfoy's haven't born a daughter in generations."

This was the perfect opening, though it didn't help her nerves in the slightest. "I don't know how much of that was actually foresight," Hermione mumbled. "It may have been an even more heightened awareness of what happened around her than we gave her credit for. I think... no, I know... I'm pregnant."

Whatever reaction Hermione had been expecting, it was not the one she got. His eyes shined so brightly she thought there must be tears in them. And his smile, it was the happiest expression she had ever seen on his face, as Draco or as Galahad.

"Really?" he asked softly, as if afraid he would find it all to be some sort of a joke, or wake to find it only a dream.

Hermione smiled and took her wand in her hand once more, casting again the spell that had caught her so off guard the day before. He stared in amazement at the pink glow and then moved to close the space between them. He wrapped his arms around her gently and kissed her lips softly, pouring into the kiss how much he cared for her and how happy he was about being a father.

She sighed in response and melted into his arms, relieved that he had taken the news so well. Draco was definitely not the young boy she used to know.

Slowly, piece by piece, they removed each other's clothes. He guided her over to the bed and moved on top of her carefully. His hands and lips roamed her body before finally he allowed himself to slip within her depths. He gasped sharply at the feel of being within her. To Draco, it was a completely new feeling. To the part of him that was still clinging to his identity as Galahad, it was like coming home.

Hermione was writhing beneath him, feeling tortured by the slow pace. He was so gentle she could have cried in happiness, but still she felt the need for more. She dug her nails in his back and raised her hips to meet him, silently pleading with him for what he knew she wanted. Finally, when he didn't give in, she spoke her frustration. "Draco," she moaned, "please! I'm pregnant, not porcelain. You won't break me."

He just smirked and acted for a moment as though he was ignoring her. Soon, though, if not quite soon enough for her, he gave her what she wanted.

As they lay there afterwards it was completely silent, with only her screams of "Galahad" towards the end that still echoed in his mind. Draco pulled her close, as if afraid she'd slip through his grasp and he'd lose her once more. In that silence, before they drifted off to sleep, one more piece of Galahad merged seamlessly with Draco.

His dreams were spent in emotional warfare, with Draco and Galahad in battle against one another. Part of each had already found a way to merge into one, but there were still some things that they could not agree on. For all that they were, in essence, the same person. Yet Draco was Slytherin, ready and eager to achieve his goals through careful thought and manipulation. Galahad, on the other hand, would have made a model Gryffindor. Both cared for Hermione and couldn't be happier about a child, but beyond that there was little agreement. Draco knew that he resented Voldemort, but he also had little respect for most of the Order. Galahad, who was called 'the Pure' for a reason, felt a pull to do the right thing no matter what. Both knew that because of Hermione they would have to join they Order. They would have to see that the Dark Lord was defeated.

The rest of the night was full of nightmares for Draco. They were all variations of the same story. Hermione would be captured by Death Eaters and taken before Voldemort. She would be raped and tortured before his very own eyes. He would be powerless to do anything, and not even his voice seemed to cooperate for him. Then, after much pain, Voldemort would finally tire of her and it would feel as though time was slowing as he heard the words "Avada Kedavra."

Bolting upright finally, he instinctively moved to protect Hermione's sleeping form from imagined attackers. His movement woke her and he took a deep breath, relieved to see that his nightmares were only that. Laying back down beside her and wrapping his arms back around her, Draco's racing heart finally began to calm.

"I'm so glad you won't be fighting," he said softly.

Hermione's previously closed eyes opened wide at his comment and she began glaring at him. "What do you mean? Of course I'm fighting."

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "The Lady of the Lake doesn't fight. She stays here. It's your duty to govern the flow of dark magic, and you will do far more good here than any but maybe Potter could do on the battlefield."

She opened her mouth to argue, then promptly closed it. She hadn't really thought about that part of being Lady, and wasn't exactly pleased by it. "Do I have to be at the Lake to control it?"

"Some Dames do, some don't," Draco admitted reluctantly. "Nimue could control it even when in Avalon or Camelot. It does require complete concentration though, and you won't have that in battle."

Hermione wasn't happy in the slightest with the new information. In truth, it was nothing that Nimue hadn't told her during training. It was just that she hadn't thought about it that way at all. Now it seemed like all her practice and study, not to mention the hours upon hours spent in Dumbledore's Army, was just a complete waste. She knew it wasn't really, as it had saved her arse on more than one occasion. Still, that effort had been with the final battle in mind. She'd always pictured it as Ron and she on either side of Harry, the Golden Trio fighting together. To think that she would no longer be able to be there with them made her sick, but she had to admit that she really would be helping Harry more by fulfilling her duties as the Lady of the Lake.

She sighed. "I have a lot to do, then. Who knows how soon the final battle could be, and I will have to explain this to the Order. Not to mention learn how to control the flow. I know there is something in Nimue's notes about it, but what if I can't do it? What if I fail?"

Draco just laughed and gave her a look. "Since when," he drawled, "has the Know-It-All Granger ever failed at anything? You'll read the notes, I'll help you practice a little, and you'll do so well I promise you it'll be worthy of an Outstanding."

* * *

_A/N: Alright... it's a bit early for the weekly update but I had it done and will be busy over the next couple days, so I figured nobody would mind if I posted it a bit early. lol. It's actually just as long as the other chapters but somehow, I guess since it's all one continuous scene, it just seems a lot shorter. Sorry for that. *hides*_

_Those reviews really help with the muses, so the more feedback I get the quicker I'll probably manage the next chapter. Not hinting at anything... ;)_


	10. Chapter 10: Control

The room was painfully quiet as Hermione sat waiting for Draco's return. She had Nimue's notes laid out before her, studying the instructions for controlling the flow of dark magic. After about three hours of reading she was fairly certain she got the gist, but she had to wait for Draco to get back before she could actually attempt it.

_When_ he got back, they would practice. She kept reiterating the 'when' in her mind. He'd been summoned before Voldemort, and even if he didn't show concern in front of her, Hermione knew that it was dangerous for him. A moment's lapse in control and Voldemort would see him for who he now was, and what he now wanted.

With a loud sigh she bent back over the notes, trying to learn them so well that they'd be as good as engraved in her mind.

* * *

_I really must impress upon you the importance of your role as Dame. I know that you are, rather painfully, aware of the power and evil of your Dark Lord, this Voldemort. That doesn't mean you understand the importance of this skill. And trust me when I say that, when all is said and done, you will agree with me about your original naivety._

_Magic is something everywhere around you. When you use your wand to cast a spell, you are essentially applying the magic that surrounds you to a specific purpose. As Dame, it is within your ability to feel this magic, and to filter or guide the flow of it as suits your purpose. Think of the Lake as a conduit, as are Avalon and the Stone Henge when accessed through it. If you close your eyes and reach out, you should be able to feel their presence. If you have difficulty, then go to those places and memorize the feel of them, then search for that distinct feel when you are back at the Lake. It may seem difficult, but try not to overanalyze it. Once accomplished, you will find the process unbelievably simple._

_Once you have mastered reaching out and sensing the magic around you, begin to learn the distinct feel of different types of magic. The essence of magic, which permeates everything and simply exists around us, will feel a certain way to each Dame and thus I can not tell you for sure what you will sense. Active magic, which is being tapped into with spells, will feel another. And that active magic that is accomplished through dark spells feels another way altogether. Dark magic tends to feel similarly to most Dames. It is dark, not like solid black but more like a looming shadow, and seems almost smothering. To me it is like a thick fog that is unnaturally colored. To the Dame that taught me it was almost like mud. If you ask your Protector or a trusted friend to perform different spells near you, you will see what I mean. _

_Practice at first with magic being performed in the same room. Once you have accomplished that you will be able to extend your senses, reaching out further and further until few areas of Britain are beyond your reach. If you cannot get far enough, tap into Avalon or the Stone Henge and then extend your reach from their energies. It helps at times._

_Above all, you must become so completely comfortable with your abilities that when the time comes there will be _no hesitation_ before you act. You must know, instinctively, what must be done and do it without any thought of failure. If you do this, then the Dark Lord you fight against will have no chance of victory._

* * *

By the end of the page Hermione had closed her eyes and begun reciting Nimue's words from memory. She had practiced reaching out as Nimue described, and she was beginning to sense the magic around her. Or, at least, she thought she was. It was really hard to tell whether it was ability or imagination that she was sensing, and she wouldn't be able to until she had someone to help her practice.

"Ugh," she said aloud to herself, "what is taking Draco so long?"

Only seconds later she heard footsteps descending the stairs and pale blonde hair came into sight._ Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,_ she thought to herself, amused. Rising from her seat and meeting him at the door, she kissed his lips briefly and helped him remove the Death Eater garb. She waited for him to speak first, not knowing just how bad the meeting may have been.

"It could have been worse," Draco said in answer to the unspoken question. "He wasn't really interested in me tonight. He had other's he wished to _crucio_."

Hermione shuddered, knowing all too well the horrors of the Cruciatus. "Did you learn anything of the attack on Grimmauld Place?"

"A little," he said, moving over to a chair and pulling her with him. "He wasn't pleased with the results, and it was those responsible for the attack that he was so angry with tonight. Apparently everyone in the Order got away with only a few injuries sustained, and he lost a Death Eater in the process. He accused several of attempting to thwart the attack. I'm not among those he's deemed guilty or I wouldn't have made it out of there."

"I've been thinking about the Order," said Hermione. "I think, maybe, it's time to invite certain members here and explain everything to them. They'd be safe here, at the very least."

Draco nodded briefly. "We can do that later. For now, how did that studying go?"

"I know her notes word for word, but I don't know how far that will get me. Sometimes I close my eyes and I think I can feel the magic around me, and then other times I'm certain it's just my imagination."

"Close your eyes, Hermione," he said softly, playing gently with her hair as he spoke. "Close your eyes and do as she instructed. Try to feel it, and tell me when you think you sense a change."

She closed her eyes obediently and reached out with her mind. To her, the magic she believed she felt was almost like a warm breeze on a summer day. It was comfortable, and seemed to caress the skin and sooth the mind. "I think I feel it. It's like I-- oh..."

Draco smirked, though she couldn't see it as her eyes were still closed and a look of wonder on her face. He knew it would come easily to her. Midsentence he had silently cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on a quill across the room. It was silently dancing in the air, and she had noticed the flow of magic immediately.

A moth was fluttering around the room when Draco noticed it and changed his practicing techniques. Being a Death Eater, however young of one, had certain perks, and he was fully capable of casting a silent _Imperius._ He felt Hermione go stiff in his arms immediately, and the look of wonder faded into one of disgust. "Oh, Merlin, stop it, Draco. Stop..."

He continued manipulating the moth. "No, Hermione," he said. "_You_ stop it. You can do it. I know you can. Cut off the flow."

Hermione's fingernails dug painfully into his shoulders as she tried to do as he asked. To her, dark magic was not like mud nor was it like a thick fog. Oh, those were present to be sure, but it was so much _more_. To her, it was like an intensified version of a Dementor's presence. She wouldn't allow it. She couldn't. Finally she just imagined sunlight and clear, blue skies. As she did so, the darkness stopped. She no longer felt the cold and despair. Cautiously she opened her eyes, wondering if Draco had just given up on her.

Draco was grinning at her and upon opening her eyes he kissed her enthusiastically. In that enthusiasm, she could see Galahad shining through. "You did it, cariad."

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. He hadn't stopped. _She_ had stopped it. She did it. She actually managed to stop the flow. Once she got past the disbelief, her excitement threatened to have her going all over Britain stopping people's spells in progress. "I'll need more practice," she said happily, "but I think this may be the time to bring the Order in. At least some of them."

He wasn't exactly happy at the prospect of having the Order around, but he could see her point and felt compelled to concede. "Alright, some of them. Unless I'm very much mistaken, Professor Snape is one of them. I wouldn't mind telling him."

"How did you know?" she asked, very surprised. Snape had always seemed gifted in his ability to keep his true allegiances quiet.

"I didn't," he said, "until the attack on your headquarters. I got to see him in action when the rest of the Death Eaters weren't around. He wasn't... well... he wasn't being quite so cruel to Order members as the Snape I'm used to seeing. He was casting plenty of hexes, but nothing that would cause permanent damage. I was looking for you, though, and I think he's used to others being too involved in their fighting to notice what hexes he casts."

"Ah," said Hermione, snickering. "I guess it's just your Slytherin tendencies at work. I don't think I would have seen anything but a sinister Snape no matter what. Except maybe if he was playing with kittens, but I'm fairly certain I'll _never_ see that. Alright. How about Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley, and Remus Lupin? I trust them all, and I think they will do well with keeping it from the rest of the Order if that's what we decide to do. Of course, Harry and Ron will have to know too. They won't accept anything less than the truth when I'm not present for the battle."

Looking back on things, _Galahad_ couldn't help but respect the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. At least somewhat. Draco, on the other hand, thought no better of them than he thought of the rest of the Order. Simpering fools, to his way of thinking. Not like Hermione at all. She'd always been brilliant and courageous, ordering Potter and Weasley around whenever she felt the necessity. Potter had begun to get a bit better, at least showing more of that infamous Gryffindor bravery. Weasley, on the other hand, was one that Draco doubted he'd ever care for.

Still, Hermione was, as usual, quite correct. It was inevitable, and Draco would deal with it. "What would you like me to do, cariad?"

* * *

_A/N: The term __**Cariad**__, which I used in this chapter and may incorporate again later, is a Welsh word meaning 'love' or 'dear.' I wanted something a little more original to use, something that I could easily imagine Galahad as using. While I could have looked to a couple of languages/dialects for it, I felt that Welsh would do nicely. :)_

_Thank you so much to everyone who has been leaving such lovely reviews, indulging me in my neediness. It really does help along those muses and it's great to hear that others are enjoying the story as I am._


	11. Chapter 11: Balance

Hermione stood in the woods just beside the lake, waiting for the Order to arrive by portkey. Not the entire Order, of course, but those three that she and Draco had agreed on. Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley, Remus Lupin, and of course Harry and Ron. She was slightly nervous about their reactions, but hoped it would work out for the best. They'd already taken care of a glamour for Draco to use until the story had been told, and he was waiting below for everyone to arrive. She'd sent a note to Mr. Weasley with a portkey to the Lake, and asked that he only tell those she specified. At least for now.!--more--

They appeared abruptly, the three adults landing from the portkey with significantly more grace than Harry or Ron managed. She greeted them all warmly with hugs, grateful to see they were relatively unscathed from the attack.

"This is going to be a complicated story," she said seriously after welcoming them. "I just ask that you wait to question it or assume the ending until I've finished my explanation."

"Of course," said Mr. Weasley. "We trust you, Hermione. We've always known you are brilliant, so if you think you've found something to help us then we will hear you out."

Hermione nodded, grateful. "Follow me."

She turned and walked a few feet away to the pool of water, descending slowly and turning to smile in encouragement as they looked at the stairs doubtfully. They trusted her, though, and soon enough they were in the Lady's home. Draco stood off to the side with his mask of dark waves and a broader frame. Only his eyes remained fully the same, and none but Hermione would have noticed them. She turned to the others and motioned for them to sit down. "This man is very important to the story. You may call him Galahad."

All of the men nodded to each other and introduced themselves, something Hermione found particular amusing given the truth of the situation. Once they were done and had found seats she began the story. "You all know that I used the Time Turner to go back in time. I found wilderness for the most part, but while I was at it I was thrown in the path of a knight. We have all heard the stories of King Arthur and his knights. The knight I met was named Galahad du Lac, who we now know as Galahad the Pure. He took me with him to the Lady of the Lake, Nimue, who helped in healing my wounds.

"While I was there Nimue trained me to be the next Lady of the Lake, though it meant there would be centuries of the Lake going without a caretaker. For some reason, though, the Lake had chosen me, so she taught me as much as she could in the time we had. When I left, she wrote down pages upon pages of instruction for me to find when I returned here in our time.

"Each Lady of the Lake has a Protector who is meant to aid her. He is uniquely connected to her and has similar knowledge of the Lake so that they can understand and support each other as she fulfills her duty. That duty is to keep the magic of Britain in balance, to prevent dark magic from becoming out of hand. It is within her ability, with practice, to completely cut off the flow of dark magic within her realm."

"Cut off the flow?" interrupted Snape. "To anyone? And is that only when near this lake?"

"I suppose I should mention that this Lake is on the Malfoy lands," answered Hermione, "so I'm sure Voldemort may well be here at some point or another. In theory, I can control the flow of magic in all of Britain and don't necessarily have to be here at the Lake to do so. It's just easier to accomplish if I am here, but I'm working on practicing enough that I'll be able to fully master the skill."

"Who is this man, this Galahad?" asked Ron, and the others nodded in interest.

Hermione gave them all an exasperated look. "I was getting to that part, if you will just let me finish the story." She waited until she was given complete silence before continuing. "Galahad du Lac was a good man that I became close to while in training. He was, as it happens, a sort of adopted grandson of the Lady Nimue. It was revealed that he was fated to be my Protector, but also that he could not merely return with me using the Time Turner. Fate seems to have a way of deciding how things should be then having us figure out a way to accomplish it. Galahad found his way. After I returned he sought out the Holy Grail, which he had been told as a boy the many magical uses of, and he gave himself as a blood sacrifice. Through the magic he was able to direct how and when he reincarnated.

"The memories of his life as Galahad du Lac did not return to him until I returned from the past, and though his current self has not always been on the side of the light, he is prepared to do what is necessary to help us now. He is my Protector, and is essential to my succeeding in my task."

It was Harry who first realized --or at least first spoke of-- the glamour. "So this isn't how he truly looks, is it? Who is he, 'Mione?"

Draco didn't leave her to explain things for him, but stepped up to do it himself. "This glamour is what I looked like when I lived as Galahad du Lac. In this life, you all despise me, and rightfully so, I just hope you will give me the opportunity to prove myself to you." With that he pointed his wand at himself and released the glamour.

Snape was the only one not to react in anger, though his surprise could be seen from the moment he heard Draco's voice. Draco had been a favorite student, but never had Snape expected to see the young Slytherin change sides.

"Whatever you think of him," said Hermione, "remember that without him I won't be able to fulfill my role. And without my fulfilling the role of Lady... how well do you think the Order can do against Voldemort's forces? How many will have to die because of the inability to forgive?"

Silence filled the air and caused an awkward silence for them all. Harry and Ron's feet shifted uncomfortably as they stared holes into the floor. Snape seemed nearly ready to speak, but thought, quite rightly, that the spy of the group wasn't exactly the best for making the first move. Mr. Weasley was unnaturally quiet, and Remus Lupin had a blank expression except for his eyes. In them was calm and forgiveness.

Finally Harry stepped forward and extended his hand. "I can't say I trust you yet," he said frankly, "but if 'Mione thinks you're trustworthy then I guess I can give you a chance. Don't screw up."

"I'm really not planning on it," answered Draco with a snicker, "but if I do then you have my permission to hex me into next year. That is, if Hermione doesn't beat you to it."

"Not to interrupt such a tender moment," Snape sneered, "but can we get back to important matters? What must we do to take advantage of this?"

Hermione grimaced. "I can cut off some dark magic in a close vicinity," she said. "Or, at least, I've been able to cut it all off in practice. I haven't had a chance to practice more distant magic though. I was hoping a few different people could help with the practice, and as long as we can buy a week or so minimum before the final battle then I think I can pull it off. I will just need to be here at the Lake and be informed it's about to take place so that I can prepare and cut off the dark magic most effectively. With luck, it will catch them so off guard that you will be able to overpower them quickly."

"And without luck?" asked Snape.

"It will still help us," said Hermione firmly. "More than you likely think possible. We are trained to fight without using dark magic. We know plenty of spells and can do it easily, like second nature. They will be at a loss, having become too dependent on dark magic to win their battles."

"You will do fine, cariad," said Draco softly, speaking to Hermione as though they were the only ones in the room. "By the end of the week you will be prepared."

The others weren't quite as convinced of her chances, but at least the truth was out and Hermione felt better for it. Then the air changed, and she felt a familiar tinge of something she didn't like. "Who is doing that?" she demanded. "Is it one of you or is there someone outside?"

Snape's lips twisted into something akin to a smirk. "Just testing you, Miss Granger," he said. "So I will acknowledge you sense dark magic in your presence. What can you do about it?"

Anger flashed through her eyes at what a git he was being, but she could also see the need for a demonstration. Reaching out easily to the magic she felt around her, she found the flow of darkness and blocked it. It was her turn to smirk in satisfaction when he attempted more spells, resorting to his wand rather than wandless magic, and found that none of the dark spells would work.

"Keep me informed," she said, dismissing them before she gave Snape a piece of her mind. "I'm going to be staying here and learning what I can."

-x-x-x-x-

The rest of her day was spent ordering Draco around, sending him further and further away from the Lake so that she could expand her range of control. By the end she was feeling at least somewhat satisfied, though there was still a long way to go. Things needed to end, and soon.

That night Draco had been summoned through his Dark Mark twice, and she knew he was in a great deal of pain resisting it. The charms on the Lady's underwater home prevented his being found, but that could only help for so long. Soon enough there would be a need to leave again, and then there would be nothing to protect him from Voldemort's grasp.


	12. Chapter 12: Completion

Hermione was woken early in the morning by a sickening feel of cold and misery which surrounded her. It was thick and smothering, giving her the sensation of being unable to breathe. In recent days she had worked on extending her reach, but it seemed her subconscious had embraced her role far more readily than her conscious mind had managed. Sitting up abruptly, she looked over by the fire and saw Draco holding his arm tightly and clenching his jaws in pain. The black mark that marred his otherwise smooth arm writhed with magic, the serpent slithering and inflicting pain in response to it's master's call.

"It's starting, isn't it?" she asked him softly.

He looked up at her with an empty expression in his eyes, as though he was preparing himself for what was to come. "Yes," he answered simply. "We have hours, maybe... but there will be battle before the day is over."

She nodded. She knew it too, and there really wasn't any point denying it. Fixing some tea she began to open herself up further to the magic, surprising herself at how long of a reach she'd managed. She could feel the dark magic, like it was bubbling under the surface and just waiting to break through. Voldemort was likely doing something to strengthen himself before attacking. She wanted so badly to just cut it off. The thrill of it would have made her day, but it wouldn't have gone beyond that. It wasn't the plan, and she didn't want her hatred of him to screw this up.

There were small things she could do to help though, and she took Draco's left arm in her hands and concentrated quietly. The flow of magic was distinct. It was tied to the darkness she felt but not dark magic in full. It didn't need to be dark for her to use her gift though, and soon the muscles in his arm were relaxing as the pain faded. "The block should hold even after you leave," she told him softly, "and he shouldn't have any way of realizing it's been done."

Trying to get her mind of what more she wanted to do against Voldemort, and if for no other reason than so she couldn't subconsciously do it, Hermione took out Nimue's notes and once again began reviewing them.

_x-x-x-x-x_

All too soon the weasel patronus of Arthur Weasley came soaring into the room. Draco came to stand behind her and began massaging and kissing her neck softly. "I have to go, cariad. It will all be over soon enough."

"Can't you stay with me?" Hermione asked quietly, twisting her head around to look up at his eyes. "As my protector, shouldn't you be staying anyway?"

It was a good excuse, Draco had to admit. Still, there were things he couldn't ignore in order to stay with her. "No, I can't," he said. "I want to badly, and as Galahad I might. But I've done a lot of things in this life that weren't right, and this is my chance to make up for them. I need this, Hermione."

She stood quickly and faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her head against him. "Alright," she answered, "if you have to. I don't have to like it, but I do understand."

Draco brought his hand up to her face and raised her chin so that she looked him in the eyes. He said nothing else in response, merely bent his head to close the distance and kissed her urgently. He didn't plan on letting anything happen to him during the battle, but he wanted to give her something to remember while she was alone and working her magic as Lady of the Lake. Her lips parted in acceptance, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and his hands gripped her body tightly.

He lifted her body and set it on the table behind her, grinding himself into her as a promise for later. Soon they both were feeling out of breath and close to forgetting the events going on around them, the need for each of them in the battle that was close at hand. Catching sight of Draco's Dark Mark served as a painful reminder of the fact and he finally pulled back. Kneeling in front of her, he kissed Hermione's stomach as his goodbye to their daughter, then took Hermione's hand in his and gently kissed the knuckles.

Silently his lips formed the words 'I love you, cariad,' as if sound would ruin the moment. With that he turned and walked gracefully out, not allowing himself to look back but instead focusing on his later return.

She let her hands fall to her stomach, and stared at the knuckles he'd kissed with such sweetness. She didn't watch him leave, instead choosing to be confident that he would return unharmed.

_x-x-x-x-x_

The patronus' of several Order members alerted her when battle began in earnest. Settling down in a comfortable chair, Hermione opened herself up for the second time in the day to the magic that surrounded her. In filled her, not quite like air or light, but as something that could saturate everything and be destroyed by nothing. For the most part it was clear and soothing, like a perfect summer day that didn't have to end.

Mentally she reached out, willing herself to feel the magic further and further away. It was like a drug, the more she sensed the more she wanted to fill her senses with. Finally she felt what she was searching for and concentrated on it. The feeling repulsed her, but she held on to it regardless. The Dementors she had encountered at Hogwarts had been miserable to experience, but they had been at a distance. Holding on to the flow of dark magic, almost as if it were passing through her, was ten times worse. It made her feel slightly claustrophobic, among other things that she really did _not_ want to think about.

Hermione's initial plan, and the one that had been agreed on, was that she would wait until Harry had fought Voldemort and the horcrux within him had been destroyed before cutting off the flow. Any sooner and it would ruin the advantage, leaving Voldemort with the knowledge of what was happening and what spells he was limited to in his attack. Still, there was the chance of a lot of lives being lost in the meantime while dark magic was flowing and Hermione was doing nothing to stop it. She understood why Draco had felt the need to go, but the knowledge of his being in danger didn't help her in the slightest with her resolve. Add to that Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and all of her other friends and her resolve wavered. She didn't lose all control, but she did interrupt the flow in places. A spell weakened here, a hex thrown off course there. The Death Eater's would be none the wiser, assuming it was just the stress of battle throwing off their concentration, and Hermione would be able to rest easy knowing she'd worked throughout the entire battle to protect her friends.

Time passed slowly, and it became not a problem of worry but of mere boredom. Not that she didn't worry, but it was no longer the worry that tempted her to further action. How much longer could things go on?

Finally Draco's raven patronus soared into the room, telling her that Harry was waking and now was the time. She breathed a sigh of relief getting the message from Draco. It meant he was safe, at least for the moment. Concentrating once more on the magic she felt, Hermione began to block all the dark magic being drawn on. It was not unlike casting a Patronus charm. She took all of her happy memories, and all those she wished for the future, and used that happiness to form the block. Once done she found it a simple matter to keep the block strong, grinning cheerfully when she felt a person that could only be Voldemort struggling harder and harder to break through.

It was then, finally governing magic when it was truly needed, that Hermione finally felt herself to be a Lady of the Lake. She embraced it fully, and knew that Nimue would be proud.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, **major** apologies for taking so long on this chapter. It was a mix of things becoming more difficult to write as the story comes closer to an end and some personal stuff that's just been killing my inspiration lately._

_Please read and review! :)_


	13. Chapter 13: Repercussions

Hermione lay on the bed, trying to relax after finally being able to release her control over the dark magic. It was over, as countless patronus' had informed her of, but she wasn't feeling up to celebration yet. Her head pounded from the tension her efforts had caused to build, and her heart ached in worry. She and Draco had jumped one hurdle in their path, but there were many yet to come.

The sound of the door being thrown open caused her head to pound even more painfully, but all was forgotten when she felt Draco's lips touching hers. The pain faded into the background in her happiness, and she eagerly pulled him down on the bed with her.

His clothes were bloodied and covered in mud, but she took that as just an excuse to divest him of them all the more quickly. He kissed her body all over, wherever flesh was exposed, telling her with his lips how much he'd missed her and how he wanted her. She raised her hips up against his lithe form, encouraging him to get to the point. She'd been worrying all day, and at this point she just wanted the feeling of her man inside of her as assurance that all was right in the world. At least, as right as it could be. Close enough.

Draco's hand worked its way between them and slowly unbuttoned the front of her shirt. She'd already removed all of his clothing with her wand, but he wanted to take his time with her. Each new piece of flesh that was revealed his lips followed, and soon he had her moaning her frustration. Hermione could feel him grinning as he kissed her inner thigh, and she decided she'd had enough.

The element of surprise was the only way she managed it, but she was able to roll him over on the bed. She straddled his hips, kissing him fiercely as she lowered herself on his erection. He hissed in response, surrendering to the feeling and thrusting up to meet her. She gasped in response.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Later that night they were laying in each other's arms when they heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs and then knocking on the door. "Hermione!" came Harry's voice from the other side of the door. "Draco! I need to talk to you!"

They got up quickly and pulled on clothes, letting Harry in as soon as they were decently covered. The expression on Harry's face surprised Hermione, though, and she instantly began worrying again. "What's wrong?" she asked as soon as he entered the door.

"It's not wrong, exactly," he said, wincing. "It's just... they are rounding up the Death Eaters, beginning the trials. Draco needs to go in now, at the start of it, so we can clear his name. I won't let anything happen to him, 'Mione, but he has to let himself be taken into custody."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Draco put a hand on her arm to stop her. "Potter's right," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her cheek. "I knew it was coming, and I have to go. I'll be back before you know it."

She shook her head, forcing back the tears that were fighting to come to the surface. "Don't make promises you can't keep," she said. "We'll get it straightened out one way or another, but don't pretend it will be overnight or that I won't miss you."

Draco hugged her tightly, kissing her lips softly, and walked over to where Harry stood. "I'm ready to go," he said, then turned back to Hermione for just a moment before leaving. "I love you, cariad, and I'll be back when I can."

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

When Draco reached the Ministry, it was only having Harry Potter at his side that allowed him even a moment to speak. Aurors rushed in to capture him, ignoring the obvious fact that he was in of his own accord. He had to admit, though, that having Potter there was a definite plus. Harry stopped them and went straight to those Order members who had the highest Ministry positions, using all of his weight to insure that Draco be treated fairly.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, who had narrowly escaped death through Hermione's interference, came out quickly to take Draco into custody. Tonks, they discovered, had known all along of Draco's involvement after Lupin confided in her, and she promised them both that she would stay close by Draco's side until everything was said and done. This didn't make Draco feel all that more confident, but he managed to appear so completely calm and collected that he lived up to the Malfoy name.

He was taken into a small room without windows, furnished only with a large table surrounded by plain metal chairs. Tonks led him to a couple of the chairs and they spoke quietly between themselves while they waited for the other aurors to arrive and take his statement.

When they did arrive, Draco was surprised to find they looked more like muggle accountants than aurors. Both were short and stocky, one donning glasses and the other nearly bald, and the overall impression they gave was one not anywhere near intimidating. The Slytherin in him took it as a good sign, however, thinking that they must be open to his innocence if they didn't bother sending anyone more menacing to question him.

"Mr. Malfoy," the one with the glasses began, shuffling around paperwork nervously, "I am Auror Clarke and this is Auror Wilkinson. I have been informed that you claim innocence of Death Eater activity. That you aided the Order of the Phoenix in its defeat of Voldemort, and that any illegal actions you may have taken were done under duress. Is this correct?"

_Well,_ thought Draco, _he certainly gets right to the point._ "That is correct, Auror Clarke," he said. "Several members of the Order of the Phoenix can testify to my involvement, as well as Harry Potter. I am also willing to surrender certain memories relevant to the case, as well as being willing to consume veritaserum if necessary."

"Yes, well," said Clarke, obviously taken aback by Draco's willingness, "the necessary measures remain to be seen. For now, I need your testimony, in as much detail as possible."

Draco obliged, taking only a moment to collect his thoughts before launching into his version of events. Clarke and Wilkinson listened politely, interrupting only periodically to ask questions about specifics. As he finished the story and brought them up to date, Draco sat back against the chair he sat in and waited for their next move.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Hermione sat laughing at the kitchen table in the Burrow, trying to forget her worries over Draco and enjoy the knowledge of Voldemort's demise. Molly was busy cooking a feast for half the Order, and people kept popping in and out in between their duties at the Ministry. The first few times she asked for news of Draco, but it seemed that things were so chaotic that they either knew nothing or thought they knew more than they actually did. So after those first few attempts, she just stopped asking.

They were all happily chatting about plans for the future when Hermione noticed a beetle crawling through shadows across the kitchen floor. Normally, she would think nothing of it, but now she was able to sense magic around her, and it occurred to her now that she'd never seen that type of beetle in the vicinity of the Burrow.

Anger flared within her, and taking her wand in her hand with movements as if of boredom, Hermione cast several spells in succession. An empty glass from the counter fell right on top of the beetle without breaking, effectively trapping the creature.

Her actions caught the attention of everyone else, and they all looked at Hermione as if she'd sprouted an extra set of arms. "Are you alright, dear?" asked Molly, looking at her worriedly. "I didn't realize you had such an aversion to beetles."

"Only a certain type," said Hermione. "The animagus type that I warned long ago to stay out of my business." She turned away from Molly and glared at the insect. "My secrecy was conditional on you keeping up your end of the bargain, Ms. Skeeter. Those terms are still in effect, and you have violated them."

She removed the glass and kept her wand pointed at the beetle. "Change back to your human form, and this will all go much easier for you."

A moment later the beetle grew and changed shape, becoming a petite blonde woman holding a quill and paper. "Miss Granger," said Skeeter with an exaggerated smile that didn't quite extend to her eyes. "Such a pleasure to see you again. Tell me, are you limiting yourself to Harry Potter now or have you found more exciting prey? I believe I did hear the name 'Draco' being mentioned earlier."

If looks could kill, Skeeter would have been dead just then. Still, Hermione chose her response carefully. "Ms. Skeeter, allow me to remind you how easy a bug you would be to squish. If any of the comments you have heard while here at the Burrow are published, or if they are released through alternative means in an ill planned attempt to get even with me, I assure you I will be more ready than ever to see your demise."

Skeeter maintained her frustratingly fake smile despite the very real threat that she knew Hermione presented. "Very well, Miss Granger. Touché. However, please consider consenting to an interview within the next few days. You were, if I do say so myself, suspiciously absent from the final battle. One might question your loyalties, not being there to support your best friends. Or is there more to this story, perhaps? Please, Miss Granger, enlighten us all."

* * *

_A/N: As we come closer to the end, it seems like the chapters become far more difficult to write. Not sure why, but it seems like that's always the way. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I especially enjoyed writing it (writers block aside). Reviews always help my muses though, so please, read and review! :)_


	14. Chapter 14: Conclusion

Hermione found herself face to face with Rita Skeeter, in the Burrow's kitchen, very nearly growling at the beetle. Oh, secrets always had to come out sometime, but she had hoped that this at least would come out when she was good and ready.

"Ms. Skeeter," she said, not at all politely. "Get out."

The woman glared at her menacingly for a moment, but thought better of her temper when she saw Hermione gripping her wand. Skeeter left abruptly, but Hermione was sure that she hadn't heard the last from her.

A couple minutes later people in the Burrow's kitchen still hadn't found their tongues, and the loud pop of apparition breaking through the silence caught them all off guard.

Draco and Harry had apparated in at the same time, both grinning from ear to ear. Draco's smile didn't seem quite so heartfelt, but that didn't stop Hermione from throwing her arms around him. Harry laughed good naturedly, but the others looked on as if it were the most unnatural thing in the world.

"It's all done, then?" asked Hermione. "You're cleared of the charges?"

Draco grimaced. "Well, yes and no. I will serve no time, and on paper I've been found completely innocent. But... they are confiscating the Malfoy property. They claim it's been the site of Death Eater activity and holds so many dark objects that they 'cannot in good conscience leave it in the possession of a Malfoy.' Whatever that's supposed to mean. Really, though, I got off lucky."

"Lucky?" asked Hermione, eyes flashing with anger. "They are taking your home though they found you innocent? That's not right!"

Before anyone could really say or do anything to stop her, Hermione practically marched over to the floo and took a handful of powder, nearly screaming "Ministry of Magic!"

Harry and Draco exchanged looks and went quickly to go after her, with half of the Weasleys following closely behind. When they arrived, Hermione was at an information desk demanding to see whoever was in charge. "It's Shacklebolt in charge," said Harry. "As much as anyone is, really."

Hermione looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is it? And they still were going to try to take it? We'll just see about that..."

The past few days had taught everyone not to underestimate the power of an angry woman who was protecting those she cared about, and those following Hermione decided to do so at a distance. Close enough to see what she was up to, but far enough away to not be involved if she lost her temper and started doing magic unintentionally. It didn't take her long to find Shacklebolt, and she interrupted a closed meeting to do so.

"You owe me an explanation, Shacklebolt," she said, frightening everyone with how quietly and evenly she was speaking now. "What is the meaning of your confiscating the Malfoy lands?"

Shacklebolt studied her carefully for a moment. He'd known there was something between her and Draco Malfoy when he'd read the boy's statement, but he'd never expected to have her barge in demanding reasons for it. To him, she should be happy the boy got off as easily as he did. Even if he had helped the Order, he was still a Malfoy. "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy has already told you of our judgment, Hermione," he said calmly. "It would not go over well to have known Death Eater's still in possession of their property, even if they fought for the right side in the end."

"As previously stated, he only took the mark under duress," she replied, just as calmly, though it was a calm she didn't truly feel. "However, if that is how the Ministry feels, then there is a more important matter that you may deal with now. The battle was won because I went back in time and studied under Nimue, the Lady of the Lake from fifteen centuries ago. Even Merlin feared her control of magic, and the Lake now recognizes me as its new Lady. It was I, as Lady of the Lake, that blocked the flow of dark magic, preventing Voldemort from using it to gain a victory. That Lake is on Malfoy lands. So, as Lady of the Lake, a title and claim that goes back before the Malfoy line and before the Ministry of Magic, I claim the Malfoy lands as rightfully mine."

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Shacklebolt had not taken it very well that he'd been kept in the dark about the Lake, or that Hermione had informed him so publically. Once he knew the truth, though, there was little he felt himself able to do but comply. The land which he'd already confiscated recognized her magic, she'd fought solidly for the light, and she was one third of the bloody Golden Trio. How was he supposed to refuse her?

In the first few days after Voldemort's defeat, numerous notices and articles were published in the Daily Prophet, informing the populace of all the changes being made within the Ministry. Most went practically unnoticed by those people who were eager to get back to their normal lives. A few, however, were printed in large letters on the front page. One such article was published the day after Hermione's visit to the Ministry.

_MODERN LADY OF THE LAKE AIDS VICTORY  
It has been revealed by the Ministry of Magic  
that Hermione Granger, commonly known as  
friend of The Boy Who Lived and one third of  
the Golden Trio, is also a modern Lady of the  
Lake. Our informants reveal that Miss Granger,  
in a dangerous plan to aid Harry Potter, went  
back in time to study under Nimue, the once  
thought mythical Lady of the Lake._

_Miss Granger used her knowledge to block usage  
of dark magic during the Battle of Hogwarts,  
contributing to Harry Potter's victory. The  
Ministry of Magic has restored the land  
surrounding the legendary lake, formerly  
belonging to the Malfoy family, to Miss Granger,  
the current Lady._

Hermione wasn't thrilled that the whole world knew of her role, or with the resulting publicity, but she was too busy to spend too much time dwelling on it. Rita Skeeter printed her own thoughts and theories about Hermione a couple days later, though she was quick to offer retractions when a Ministry official showed up at her door to investigate claims of her being an unregistered animagus.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

A week after news of the new Lady of the Lake emerged, Hermione made her way to the Stone Henge and the remains of Avalon. She remembered well what Nimue had told her of their connection, and could feel the magic flowing from the moment she drew close to them. She used her power as Lady to strengthen the ancient connection between them all, and remove the lingering dark magic that plagued the wizarding world.

In the time that followed, St. Mungo's reported a number of their inhabitants had mysteriously improved from their previous states. Frank and Alice Longbottom, long considered permanently insane from their torture under the Cruciatus, slowly but surely regained health and were soon released to live with their son, Neville.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

A month after the battle, as things began quieting down, Hermione and Draco had a private marriage ceremony at Malfoy Manor. Few were invited, only the closest of friends, and the knowledge of their marriage managed to go under the radar for the most part. Draco surprised Hermione by wearing the clothes he had favored as Galahad for the wedding, with only his blonde hair reminding them of how much they had gone through and just who they now were.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy visited Lucius and Narcissa in Azkaban not long afterwards, revealing to them the true identity of their son. Lucius, who was set to be Kissed, showed little remorse for his actions and even less joy in the news of his grandchild on the way. Narcissa, on the other hand, was delighted with the news. She, being subject to her husband's orders and having helped protect Harry by lying to Voldemort, was only in Azkaban until her case could be finalized. She was to be released with only a one year probationary period, and was anxious to begin her role as grandmother.

Just short of eight months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione gave birth to a daughter. Elaine Malfoy was the eldest of three children, and from an early age was trained to follow her mother's footsteps as Lady of the Lake. Two boys followed, Scorpius and Lancelot. Elaine was doted upon by all, and looked closely after her younger brothers. Scorpius, heir to the Malfoy family, could very nearly always be found by his father's side. Lance, as he was called by the family, was another matter altogether. Wherever Hermione went, her youngest son with his dark brown curls was sure to follow.

Galahad du Lac sacrificed everything he had out of his love for Hermione, trading one life for another, and in return Draco Malfoy gained everything.

* * *

_A/N: This story is at an end, and I hope everyone has enjoyed the ride. I had originally intended to keep things going for a couple more chapters, but in the end decided it was best this way. I have a two more stories in the works, including one that is nearly completed and I will begin posting the first couple chapters soon. Apparently my writers block has only been targeting stories that everyone was waiting for the conclusion of. lol._

_Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review this story throughout the two and a half months I've been working on it. Your encouragement is the reason I was able to finish it. :)_


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